To sleep, perchance to dream
by astroanna
Summary: Another random piece of finale-inspired...randomness...


House was dreaming again, and he knew it. He didn't really mind it, though, it was a welcome distraction from the pain he knew was waiting for him in his waking life.

There she was again.

Amber.

Again she was the image of an angel, dressed in a soft pink pantsuit, the light gleaming off of her blonde hair. The two were standing in what seemed to be a spacious room, painted all in white.

"Why do I keep dreaming about you?"

Amber smiled her enigmatic, contented smile.

"You know this isn't exactly a dream," she replied slyly.

House sighed.

"If you tell me I'm going to meet Santa I'm going to have to reconsider my sanity."

"No," she said, laughing, "but there is something I want to show you before you go back to the rest of your life."

"What's that?" House asked, now curious.

Amber's eyebrow raised and she smiled yet again.

"The reason I wanted you to get off that bus."

Before House could say anything more the two were suddenly in a hospital procedure room. It was totally nondescript and ordinary, but House recognized it as one of Princeton Plainsborough's rooms.

"What are we-" House began, but Amber looked into his eyes, her hand placed lightly on his arm.

"Look," she said, inclining her head toward the hospital bed in the center of the room.

House looked and was floored at the image in front of him. Amber was on the bed, but she was broken and blood-soaked. Looking back he saw the other Amber, still gazing serenely at him.

"What-"

"This one," she said quietly, "is my memory."

House nodded, seemingly accepting that whatever was happening, he would simply see it through. He had almost died several times, and figured that seeing these visions was simply par for the course.

As House turned away he saw Wilson walk into the room quietly. He watched as his friend silently made his way to the bed, laying next to Amber, gathering her frail body into his arms with infinite tenderness. The two simply lay there for a while, their arms entwined, holding onto each other as if simply being together would protect them from anything. Eventually, though, the reality of the memory played itself out.

"I'm tired," he heard Amber say, "I think it's time to go to sleep."

As she said the words House watched Wilson's face dissolve into anguish he had never seen in his friend before.

"Just a little longer," he heard Wilson say, his voice pleading, desperate.

"We are always gonna want just a little longer," Amber said softly, looking at Wilson, trying to meet his eyes.

"I don't think I can do it," Wilson said, his voice breaking as he finally turned to look into Amber's face.

"It's okay," Amber said, her voice reassuring.

"It's not okay, why is it okay with you? Why aren't you angry?" Wilson said through his tears.

House wondered the same thing.

"That's not the last feeling I want to experience," Amber replied, her eyes locked onto Wilson's.

Wilson's eyes were upon Amber's as well, and the two looked at each other knowing this was the last time they would ever do so. Wilson's hand cupped Amber's face lovingly and then he kissed her; tenderly, passionately, and longingly. Then, with a sudden movement, as though he would lose his nerve if he waited a moment longer, Wilson turned and deftly shut off the buttons on the bypass machine. The last thing House saw in Amber's memory were Wilson's eyes upon her, grief-stricken but filled with all the love the man before her had.

House was suddenly back in the plain white room, Amber standing before him again. Even though he knew it was a dream, House nevertheless felt hot tears on his face. Amber, however, had the same serene smile on her lips.

"Do you understand now?" she asked.

"Understand what? That I should go back to the life where you were stolen from him? The life where he's alone?"

"No," she said quietly, "don't you get it? I'm here, helping you. Didn't you ever ask yourself why that is? Or how?"

House shook his head. He had to admit he hadn't had a chance to consider the question.

"The last thing I felt in the mortal world was his love for me. That's why I'm able to be here, able to help you. House, you need to go back."

"Why?"

"Because he's going to need you. You think he's alone, but he's not. He has you. House, you know as well as I do that you can't leave him."

House shook his head.

"What…am I supposed to do?" House asked, bewildered, "how am I supposed to help him?"

As the image of Amber dissolved he heard her voice answer.

"Don't worry, House. When the time comes, you'll know."

House woke up once more, his eyes slowly opening and taking in the room around him. It was empty and quiet, the only sound the soft beeping of his monitors. Taking a deep breath, he blew it out slowly. He leaned back, closing his eyes, but did not fall asleep.

After several minutes the sound of soft footsteps in the hallway outside his room made House's eyelids open. Looking through the wide window set into the doorway House's breath caught for a moment as he saw the familiar face of his best friend looking back at him. House's shock kept him momentarily paralyzed, but he finally gestured for Wilson to enter, although his gaze never left the other man. Several breathless moments passed during which House was afraid, terrified in fact, that Wilson would simply walk away again. Slowly, however, the door was pushed open and Wilson entered, seating himself beside House's bed.

Silence settled between the two men for a while, neither knowing how to begin. The sight of Wilson, his eyes slightly bloodshot and his normally neat hair unkempt, unsettled House and compelled him to finally speak.

"There's something I need to say," the diagnostician said softly, "and it may not make any difference. Hell, it may make things worse for all I know. But I have to say it."

Wilson remained silent, but he nodded, and his eyes were steady on House's face.

"I'm not good at helping people through the hard stuff. I diagnose, I cure, and then I'm gone. If I can't do that in time I find out the answer after it doesn't even matter anymore. I see my patients for a few days, a week max. Things have reached a point where either the disease wins by then or I do. In any event I never have time to get invested. It's always worked, though, because that's my nature.

You, on the other hand, see the same people for weeks, months, years. You get involved in their lives and you care. You've made caring about people part of your job because that's your nature. I've never told you how much that's meant to me. You're the best friend I've ever had, and I don't want any more time to go by without you hearing that."

Wilson had been listening intently to House's words, his brown eyes steady upon the ice blue. Before he could reply, however, House continued, earnestness carried in every word.

"For whatever it's worth, you are not in this alone."

"I…" Wilson shook his head, "I don't know what to say."

House looked at Wilson for a long moment, appraising the younger man. House seemed to see Amber's serene smile in his mind's eye as he looked at his friend. It calmed him somehow, gave him an anchor to hold onto.

"That's okay," House said, shrugging, "just sit with me for a while."

A comfortable silence fell between the two, and neither felt the need to speak again. Eventually, House fell asleep and after a while Wilson followed suit. It was a temporary piece of tranquil solitude the two had found, and both knew the bubble would soon shatter. Life and pain and chaos lay just outside the door of the small hospital room and only time would tell what the future held for them. For now, though, the two friends could at least steal a few hours of the peaceful and precious oblivion of sleep.

A/N: A random piece of wierdness born of my interpretation of the final sequence in the finale...I have a feeling it turned out a little off, but there it is...


End file.
